Do you ever wonder if you were truly related to your parents? I ask myself this question all the time. In fact my sister and I would like to ask for a DNA test. We are that sure that they aren’t our real parents!
First of all, they are nothing like us. Mel and I are fairly happy people, who love their kids and families and actually enjoy doing things for other people. We also are never too busy to listen to another person or help them through a rough patch.
So, I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised when they called to offer (their form) of sympathy for my loss of Shubi. The call went something like this between my mother and me.
Mom: It’s too bad about Shubi.
Me: Yes. I feel pretty bad
Mom: I’ve been feeling pretty sick lately. Today I had a bad blood sugar attack because I forgot to eat lunch. And you know me I never forget to eat lunch.
Me: You shouldn’t do that.
Mom: Well, I was so sleepy. I don’t know why, I slept until 9 and then I fell back asleep until your father woke me up. And he is sick too. Stomach problems. (She told me more but I will not gross you out. It was bad enough that I had to listen!)
Me: Oh that’s too bad.
Mom: I was worried we wouldn’t be able to go to the dinner at church, but it looks like we will make it. I think it will be a lot of fun.
Me: That’s good.
Mom: What’s all that noise?
Me: Greta needs to go out.
Mom: I had a nice dog one time. Baby was a good dog.
Me: Yes, she was, but Shubi was very special to me.
Mom: My dog was special.
Me: Yes, well, Greta needs to go out so I’ve got to go.
Why do I expect that she will ever be able to offer any sort of loving support when I am grieving? Why do I even hope that maybe she can see a world that does not revolve around her? It always has to be about her. Her needs, her sicknesses, her life. Is it that she is truly incapable of seeing her own child’s pain?
Yep. I want that DNA test!